My Spy: Last Spy Standing

by Dana Marton

  When he knocked, a young woman in her early twenties came to the door with a baby on her hip and two toddlers clinging to her legs. She wore thrift-store clothes, nothing but suspicion on her face.

  Her gaze slid to his badge.

  “I’m green-card citizen,” she said. “My children all born here.”

  “May I come in, ma’am?”

  She stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind them. She didn’t ask him to sit. “You said you wanted to talk about loco bastard Jimenez.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “In the spring. I went to visit him in prison. Told him I needed money for the niños.”

  “Was that all you discussed?”

  “He said he give me money when he free. But he never came here when he got out, not even a once.” Frustration tightened her voice, tears flooding her eyes. “He’s no good hombre. You see him, you tell him I want to put knife in his heart.”

  The anger seemed sincere. “Did anyone ask you to take him a message?”

  “No, nada. He no family here. His mother lives in Mexico. His brothers all shot dead.” She crossed herself.

  “How about his friends?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He no let me meet no friends. He’s jealous man. He hit me if mailman brings package to door. He wants me to him only. Much love before.” She shook her head. “Now he want me no more.”

  He stayed for another twenty minutes, asking what she knew about Jimenez’s job, his friends, the people the man hung out with. He asked about messages in prison again, but she knew nothing and he believed her. She didn’t seem like a seasoned criminal, just a woman on the edge after making too many bad choices.

  Jamie ran the information he had so far through his head as he walked to his car. Jimenez executed one of the Coyote’s men in prison, one who’d been on the brink of betraying the Coyote. Jimenez was one of the Coyote’s men, but couldn’t be found. If Jamie caught the messenger who took him the hit order, that guy could lead him to the Coyote instead.

  Jimenez’s girlfriend didn’t pan out. Jamie drove up to see the priest at the mission next, which was nothing but an abandoned pizza store in a strip mall.

  The front windows were busted, possibly shot out, now patched up with cardboard. Father Gonzales, an older man sitting inside, sported a blue sling, but his face immediately stretched into a smile as Jamie walked in.

  Jamie introduced himself then gestured at the windows with his head. “Rough neighborhood?”

  “We do gang rescue,” the sixty-something priest said. “The gangs don’t like it. The Lord’s work is not always all puppies and rainbows, I’m afraid.”

  The priest seemed to have a good sense of humor about it, even if sitting in a storefront unarmed while ticking off some of the most ruthless criminals in the state didn’t seem like a smart plan to Jamie. He kept his opinion to himself. He asked about Jimenez instead.

  The priest remembered him. “A troubled young man. Yet so much to live for. All things can be forgiven.”

  “Did you try to convince him to leave his gang? Is that what you were talking about when you went to visit him in prison?”

  “That and Jesus. You’d be surprised how many of these young men wear the cross. I try to convince them to live by its principles. We talked about that and his children’s future.”

  “Do you keep in touch? Have you talked to him since his release?”

  “No.” He sounded genuinely saddened. “I’m afraid I wasn’t good enough. We might have lost him. But the Lord doesn’t give up on anyone. And neither will I.”

  “You might be fighting a losing battle, padre.”

  But the old man smiled with full conviction. “That cannot be. It’s too important a battle to lose. There are thirty thousand gangs in this country, did you know that? Eight hundred thousand gang members. Do you know what the life expectancy is for these young men?” He paused for a second before he went on. “Twenty years. Just enough to leave some orphans behind.”

  The sad truth. “Jimenez has three small kids.”

  The priest shook his head. “I lost contact with the mother. I would have liked to help her. She moved at one point. I think paying the rent is difficult for her.”

  Jamie considered him. He seemed like a good guy. “I can give you their new address. They looked like they could use a little help.”

  He talked to the priest some more to get a better feeling for him. He definitely seemed to be the genuine article, believing in what he was doing, even willing to give up his life for the men he was trying to save. Jamie couldn’t see him passing a kill order.

  But then, who?

  Could be the order hadn’t gone straight to Jimenez. It could have gone to one of his buddies inside, then passed on to him. Who did Jimenez hang with in prison?

  Rico Marquez might have the answer. And he wanted that new chance through witness protection enough to cooperate.

  Jamie called him on the drive back to Pebble Creek but Rico didn’t pick up his phone. He’d have to try again later.

  He returned to the office just in time to go out on patrol with Shep.

  “I’ll meet you by the river,” he told his teammate as they got into their cars. “I need to check on something first.”

  He wanted to drive by Bree’s place to make sure everything was okay there. He tried to make a habit of doing a drive-by check every time he was passing within a few miles of her house.

  Not because he liked her. She was annoyingly cheerful. She fought crime by being nice. What was that? Utter nonsense. She was a disaster waiting to happen. That was the only reason he was checking on her. Not because he cared or had more than a passing interest in her.

  Yet his blood ran cold as he turned the corner and saw the police cruisers lining her street.

  Her front yard was destroyed. Tire marks crisscrossed her rock garden, her collection of garden statues scattered around in pieces. Violence and destruction hung in the air.

  He noted her car in the driveway as he came to a screeching halt and jumped out, Officer Delancy running to block his path. He was about to shove the woman out of the way when Bree appeared in the doorway.

  She had a tight look on her face, her beautiful smile missing. “It’s okay. You can let him pass.”

  He hurried to her, assessing the damage, trying to figure out what he’d missed. “What the hell happened here? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Just got home. I have to get back inside. Katie is upset.” She turned back in.

  When he followed her, she didn’t protest.

  “We need to talk.” They needed to have a serious discussion. Her stalker was progressing from bad to worse pretty fast. He’d gone from watcher to invader to violent attacker in the space of a few days.

  Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was in serious trouble.

  * * *

  BREE WATCHED AS Katie rocked herself in the living room, tears rolling down her sweet face.

  “The unicorns are broken,” she repeated.

  The mess outside was a major disruption in her life, and she didn’t deal well with disruption.

  Bree wanted to give her a hug, and she could have used a hug herself, but Katie didn’t like when people touched her in general, and she didn’t allow anyone to touch her at all when she was upset like this.

  “What can I do to help?” Jamie asked quietly behind her.

  “She’s—” Bree folded her arms around herself, her throat burning. “Those statues are pretty much the only thing we have left of Mom. She made her own molds. It was her hobby. She made all those unicorns because they’re Katie’s favorite.”

  She drew a slow breath and let her arms down. She needed to be strong and to take charge. They couldn’t get stuck in this terrible moment. They had to keep moving forward, get past it.

  “How about we get ready for dinner?” she called to Katie, trying to sound as cheerful as she possibly could. “Let’s start cooking.” They neede
d to get back to their regular schedule. The familiar chores would offer comfort.

  “You need to go someplace safe,” Jamie said in a low voice that only she would hear.

  She’d thought about that already. “I don’t know if Katie could handle that right now. She’s not good with change under the best of circumstances. I asked for police protection. We should be okay here as long as we have that.”

  “You need something 24/7.”

  She shook her head. “That might be overkill, I think. Jason has done what he set out to do—he scared us. I really don’t think he’ll come back.”

  He frowned at that assessment. “And if he does?”

  “I can handle things when I’m home. If I have to go in and leave Katie with Eleanor, there’ll be a cruiser sitting by the curb with an officer.” Bree had responsibilities at the station. Her job didn’t always conform to a nine-to-five schedule.

  Jamie was watching her with worry in his eyes. “What can I do?”

  She searched his face. He seemed to genuinely care. She didn’t want to be touched by that, but she was, anyway. “I don’t know.”

  “But you’ll let me know?”

  Why? They weren’t friends. They were nothing to each other. And yet, she nodded.

  “I have to go on patrol.”

  “Go. There’s nothing you can do here right now. It’s all over.” She hoped.

  He didn’t look convinced. He left her with a dark look on his face. Through the window, she could see him check over her yard and talk to Delancy before he got into his car and drove away.

  “Everything’s okay,” she told Katie. “We’ll fix this. We always fix everything, right? We’re the superteam.” They’d gotten through worse, like their parents’ deaths in the fire.

  Yet whatever they’d faced in the past, they’d never been in physical danger.

  She went to the kitchen and started preparing dinner. Regaining normalcy was the key. “How about you set the table?” she asked Katie again. They needed to get back to the mundane. She needed to settle Katie down before she could start thinking about how to solve their problems.

  She wanted to be out there, securing the crime scene, taking tire casts, looking for prints and clues. But her sister would always come first.

  She could hear her front door open. Probably Delancy. She called out, “Back in the kitchen.”

  “Just me.” Her neighbor, Eleanor, shuffled into view, wearing one of those ankle-length flowery dresses she preferred. She was in her sixties, kind faced with pixie-cut hair and lots of artsy jewelry.

  She always cheered Katie up, as she did now. Katie stopped rocking as soon as she saw her.

  “How are you, Katie, sweetie?” Eleanor asked her.

  “Somebody killed my unicorns.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, honey. Unicorns are magic. I bet they’re just sleeping.”

  The distress on Katie’s face didn’t ease. “Magic doesn’t work. It’s a trick.”

  “Sweet mackerels, did you hear that nonsense on TV? You just wait. Unicorn magic is special.” She winked, pulling a bag from behind her back. “Guess what I brought you?”

  “Chocolate-covered pretzels!” Katie sounded excited at last. Then turned to Bree. “I can’t eat dessert before dinner.”

  “That’s right.” Not that she wouldn’t have let Katie eat absolutely anything to cheer her up, but rules were an important thing for them, something that provided Katie with stability in a world she didn’t always understand.

  “Here.” Eleanor gave Katie the bag. “You keep this safe until after dinner. You’re in charge. Somebody has to be the boss, right?”

  Katie looked pleased about that.

  Eleanor walked out into the kitchen. “How can I help?” she asked Bree.

  “I think we’re good. She’s calming down. But I’m not looking forward to her going outside tomorrow morning and seeing the destruction again. She’s going to Sharon’s house to hang out.” Sharon was Katie’s oldest friend. They’d grown up together, and now they worked together.

  She looked from Katie back to Eleanor. “Thank you for calling the station.”

  Eleanor reached a hand to her chest. “He was crazy. Shook me up.” She shook her head. “Plowed right through the lawn with his big pickup. And then back and forth, back and forth. Sweet mackerels.” She sank into a chair as if just thinking about it drained the strength from her. “Had to be drunk as a warthog.”

  “Did you see his face?”

  “Young guy. I already told Officer Delancy. Honestly, I was too far away to get a good look at him. And he was turning back and forth, backing over things. Was he on drugs, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. But we’ll definitely find him.” Bree pulled a pizza from the freezer and popped it in the oven. “Why don’t you stick around for a slice?”

  “Don’t want to be in the way.” But she looked pleased as peaches at the invitation.

  She lived alone, not that she was lonely. She had a flock of girlfriends and they were always off to some garage sale here or a flea market there. They had big dreams of finding something rare and making a big splash on Antiques Roadshow. Half of them were in love with the furniture-expert twins.

  “You know we love you. And we love your company,” Bree told her.

  So she made the pizza, tossed a salad to go with it and they all ate together, and shared the chocolate-covered pretzels before Eleanor went home. She liked to turn in early.

  Bree watched Katie’s favorite prime-time crime shows with her and opened a new puzzle to keep them busy during commercial breaks. When Katie remembered the statues and got upset again, Bree gently guided her back to the picture they were putting together piece by little piece, a modern-art painting titled Sisters.

  Not until Katie was asleep did Bree go out to Delancy. The others were gone by then, Delancy taking night shift for the protection detail. She didn’t have much information, just that the forensic teams had done a good job and they should have something by the next day.

  So Bree went back inside. She wanted to stay close to Katie. Sometimes, when she went to bed upset, Katie had nightmares.

  Bree thought about the attack, about how serious the danger was that they were in, about what she could do if things escalated further. While she’d been telling the truth when she’d told Jamie she didn’t expect this to get any worse, she was smart enough to know that it paid to have a plan B, just in case.

  If they needed to go somewhere for a while... She needed to make plans ahead of time, start talking to Katie about it now, prepare her that they might be leaving. Jamie would approve. He seemed to have been genuinely worried about them.

  He seemed to always be here, whether she wanted him to or not. Not that long ago, she’d found that aggravating. But today, his checking up on her had felt nice, actually.

  And then, since she’d thought about him just before bed, of course, she dreamed about him. In her dream, she definitely wanted him. She wasn’t even surprised that he was the first person she saw in the morning when she looked out her window as she brushed her teeth.

  Chapter Eight

  It looked as if he’d come here straight from his shift on the border. He’d definitely been there for a while, because half the statues had been repaired and were back in one piece. The front yard no longer looked as if someone had swung a wrecking ball around. Huge, huge improvement compared to the night before. Bree couldn’t believe her eyes.

  She ran a brush through her hair, then checked in on Katie, who was still fast asleep. They didn’t have to get up early on Saturdays since neither of them worked. She threw on a pair of jeans and her favorite red tank top, jumped into flip-flops and hurried outside.

  Boy, it was getting hot already. But with Jamie there, she didn’t spend much time thinking about the weather. He had a way of commanding a person’s full attention.

  “Thank you,” she said as she reached him. He didn’t have any new bruises, didn’t look like he’d been
in any fights last night with smugglers.

  “You’re messing up your lines,” he said as he straightened, his clothes covered in dust. “Usually you ask me what the hell I’m doing here.”

  She made a face. “It’s so unmanly to cling to the past like that.”

  And he almost smiled, which was big progress for Jamie Cassidy. He wasn’t exactly the type one would expect to break out in a song and dance. Although if he did, she’d definitely watch.

  “Thank you,” she said again as she examined his handiwork. She could barely see the cracks. He’d fitted everything back together nearly seamlessly. There was something sexy about a man who knew how to do stuff. As far as she was concerned, competence had always been an aphrodisiac. “How do you know how to do this?”

  “My grandfather was a mason, came over here from Ireland. I helped him build all kinds of things when I was a kid. He used to hire me in the summers. We worked on a couple of old churches together.” He brushed a mortar-looking plop of white off his knee. Not that it made a difference. He was pretty much covered in grime.

  She was a Texas country gal. Dirt never bothered her.

  He wore dusty blue jeans and a black T-shirt with a sweat stain on his chest. Who knew sweat could be so sexy? Her gaze caught on his bulging biceps as he lifted a chunk of unicorn back onto its pedestal.

  A decade ago, the kitchen fire that had killed her parents had taken the house. A tragic, freak accident. Katie had been on her first sleepover at Sharon’s place. Bree had been away at college.

  The fire marshal had said afterward that it looked like their mother had been overcome by smoke at the top of the stairs. And their father wouldn’t leave the house without her. He was found with his arms around her, protecting her to the end.

  The house had been the least the Tridle sisters had lost that day.

  Everything had to be rebuilt, an exact same replica of the old house for Katie’s sake. Bree had even replaced the furniture with similar pieces. She’d done a fair job, but it was only the statues that were part of the original property. Katie treasured them. They provided good memories and continuity.